


The Sun Can't Shine Without Darkness

by Baguette_Me_Not



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Literally just OCs, Meg and Apollo will come later I promise, Multi, One-Shots, papadopoulos fam au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 01:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baguette_Me_Not/pseuds/Baguette_Me_Not
Summary: Just a collection of TOA related stuff.





	The Sun Can't Shine Without Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally decided to actually post (and finish) one of my works for this fandom. It’s part of the Papadopoulos Fam AU (derived from http://flightfoot.tumblr.com/post/183365981727/so-is-lester-a-being-that-zeus-created-like-did ) and all OCS in this fic belong to @ArtJunkyard. It’ll make sense if you read their fic first ( https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13196036/4/Trials-Of-Apollo-Oneshot-Series ) because every single character here isn’t even cannon. Every. Single. One.
> 
>  
> 
> Much to her displeasure, she often misplaced things. A trait she'd shared with her grandmother apparently (her mother often told her stories of that woman always losing her glasses, which nine times out of ten were still on her head.) But she had always been told that no matter what she lost — how insignificant, how small — it would always find its way home.
> 
> She just hoped someone would tell her son that.

She'd lost it.

 

The memory dated way back to when she was merely a child. It was hazy and fractured, like all old memories were, but she could never forget the compassion that burned deep within her mother’s eyes. Or the way she smiled at her, gentle and understanding.

 

“What’s wrong sweetie?” Her mother had asked, kneeling down so as to look her in the eye. A gentle hand found its way to one of her unruly curls, tucking the loose strand behind her ear. It sent a pang of warmth through her heart, though it wasn’t enough to ease her troubles.

 

A single tear managed to trek down her cheekbone.

 

“Teddy,” She mumbled under her breath, almost incomprehensible. “Teddy’s gone.” She was _so sure_ he’d been with her a few moments prior, clutched in her arms so tightly that, had he been a living breathing creature, he would have been sure to suffocate. Yet, all she grasped now was empty air.

 

Her mother nodded sagely, though the encouraging smile never slipped from her face.

 

“Not to worry! We’ll retrace our steps, okay?” She stood up, wincing slightly as her knee let out a worrying ‘ _pop_ ’. Even so, her mother’s attention promptly turned back to her and she laced her calloused hand with her own, still oh so small from youth.

 

“Thanks Mama,” She said, her voice still small but filled with the faintest trace of hope as the pair of them began to make their way back to where they’d just come from. With her free hand, she began to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. It was a little too fancy for her taste — too many ribbons. But her mother seemed to think she looked adorable in the colour pink.

 

“Don’t look so worried Susan. Look,” Mother stopped in her tracks, almost sending her toppling on the floor. Her mother laughed, joyful like bells rather than bitter or mean as she reached into her coat pocket (also — if she remembered correctly — pink.) Out of it she retrieved a small, silver object attached to a length of chain. Encrusted in the centre a green jewel glinted, its colour coming close to mirroring her mother’s own eyes.

 

“It’s a necklace,” She gazed at the object fondly, no doubt recollecting a precious memory of the past. “My mother gave it to me many, many years ago,” She laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges. But, even in that moment, with a face riddled with wrinkles and laugh lines, Susan could have sworn she looked as young as ever.

 

Her mother hesitantly removed her entwined hand from her own before unclasping the chain. She took either end of it with both of her hands and draped it around her neck. Susan gasped as the metal brushed against the back of her exposed neck, maybe even shivered a little, but she remained speechless even as her mother backed a step away from her. In that moment she almost reminded her of an artist, stepping back to admire their work.

 

“You look just like her, you know? Ah, um. Nevermind sweetie. I just think she would appreciate you having this. My mother, uhm — your _grandmother_ , she was quite the forgetful soul. Especially in old age. But she would always tell me that whatever she lost, _no matter what she lost_ , it would always turn up one way or another. Often when you least expect it. Just like this necklace.” Her fingers traced over the silver plated necklace, now resting on Susan’s neckline. “I was always losing it… but it came back.”

 

“Just like your teddy will.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’d lost it.

 

It had to have been around here somewhere, Susan knew. It _just had to be_.

 

She knew she must have been a mess. A frantic girl on her hands and knees in a nearly deserted school digging through the contents of a rubbish bin. Must have stank, too, though she had long since grown used to the stench. Either that or the smell was so strong that her nose has given up its ability to smell.

 

Maybe it was a combination of both.

 

At long last, her fingers clasped around something smooth, cool, metal and decidedly not yet another mouldy banana peel that had been festering in there for months on end (she really wished people would come and clean their school bins more often.) She yanked it out and, despite it being filthy, she recognised the necklace her mother had given to her when she was just an infant. Susan let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

 

The trinket, even in its battered and worn state, held a firm place in her heart. If those boys had actually managed to…

 

No.

 

She wouldn’t dwell on it. All that mattered now was the necklace was still in her hands and she _would not_ by any means let it out of her sight ever again. Ever.

 

As Susan fastened it around her neck, being mindful to keep her hair out of the way, she heard an inhuman shriek that, had she had her hands free, would have caused her to have thrown her hands over her ears. As it was, she didn’t, and for many years after the incident feared that this very moment ruined her hearing.

 

She peered around the corner. Her angle was awkward and the way the building jutted out obscured her view. But what she could make out left her heart hammering in her chest. A blur of bronze. A pair of malicious, red eyes that flared with a hatred so intense that nothing human could ever bear it (she’d be having nightmares of those eyes a lot in her foreseeable future.) Though these eyes, the pure image of rage, were reduced to nothing but crumbling ashes by that blur of bronze, that was no doubt now a sword ( _a sword? In this day and age??),_ which sliced through the creature if it were nothing more than a slab of warm butter.

 

Susan never found out who the wielder of that weapon was. She’d already passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

She’d lost it.

 

Now, please remember that she was a level headed person. Was never one to lose her temper. No, she’d call herself a rather calm person.

 

But these- these _girls…_ they just tipped her over the edge of that metaphorical cliff and straight to the burning pits of hell. Made her lose that temper of hers she, under any normal circumstance, would have had under control.

 

“Excuse me?” She did not shout. Didn’t even raise her own voice above speaking level. Yet the way she carried her voice through the air, venomous enough that even the room itself seemed to cower at her tone, worked better at carrying the message across than anything the loudest person in the room could have said (which would have been Jonathan. Man, that boy could shout.) “What do you think you're doing?”

 

Internally though, despite the raging white hot heat that burned from her very core, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug when she caught sight of how Angela flinched, even if she regained her composure straight afterward.

 

“What is it Susan?” The dark-haired girl sneered at her, through her eyes never left the sight of the boy before her. He was tall for his age, easily towered Susan, and she was short by no means. She recognised him now, she realised. They only shared one class together but it was hard not to forget that grinning boy that sat in front of her for chemistry.

 

Except now that smile was gone, wiped clean off his face and instead replaced by one that simply didn’t belong. Somehow, Susan’s blood managed to boil even more than it had been previously. Angela had no right —

 

“This doesn’t concern you.” For the first time, Angela twisted to look around at her, eyeing her distastefully as if she were a piece of rotting meat that she had allowed to fester. Or a mouldy banana.

 

Laughter bubbled in her chest, though it tasted bitter and acidic to the tongue. “Doesn’t concern me, huh? You’re one to talk, nosing around in this boy’s personal life, using his father’s uhm… _record_ as material to torment him.” Her eyes flicked back up to the boy who was now staring at her with tears in his eyes. Damn, Angela had gone and made him cry. She opened her mouth yet again to continue admonishing the girl when Angela beat her to it, now glaring at her with complete and utter hatred.

 

Like the eyes.

 

She swallowed back a gulp as Angela spoke in that rather frustrating voice of hers, “You think you can lecture _me_ on being nosy? Look at you! You were listening in on our conversation—”

 

“Sounded more like you were harassing him.”

 

Angela dutifully ignored her. “—just mind your own business, okay Susan? Not everything is all about you, you know?”

 

“I never said it was.” She folded her arms, pointed look never wavering from its place on her face. “I just asked you to leave him alone. I don’t appreciate people treating my friends like that.”

 

Was it her or was that boy tearing up even more than before?

 

“Sureee,” Angela drawled, “your _friend._ ” She turned back to the boy who flinched under her narrowed gaze. “Remember to have it tomorrow, Thomas. I’d hate for rumours to spread around the school about what your dad does. Especially, if they are true.”

 

With that, Angela spun on her heel and walked away from the pair of them with her entourage (ugh, how cliché) who repetitively sent amused glances their way. As if this were all just some game, some form of entertainment to keep them preoccupied for the time being. The idea alone made her skin crawl.

 

“That was pretty cool of you,” Susan turned, a little stunned to hear the boy’s (Thomas’, his name was Thomas) voice for the first time that day. While not at full force, his easygoing smile was back and he was looking at her with — _was that admiration_? “I would never have been able to stand up to Angela like that! Thanks!”

 

Her cheeks may have flushed at the praise. “It was no problem — _really_ .” She added the last part on hastily as he opened his mouth to protest. “I hate those girls. Always being so _ugh_!” She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles started transitioning to sheet-white. “And they’re still planning on spreading rumours about you.”

 

Thomas’ face crumpled, and as much as that made her heart pang, she couldn’t help but notice that like this he held an uncanny resemblance to that of a sad pug.

 

“Don’t worry, though. They won’t get away with it.”

 

Thomas blinked in a look of adorable confusion. “How do you know that?”

 

“Because.” She tried out that encouraging smile her mother always used to give her out for size. “I won’t let them.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’d lost it.

 

“You’ve lost what?” Thomas asked, tucking into a peanut butter, cheese, ham and Oreo sandwich he’d made for himself at the kitchen counter. Personally, she didn’t know how he stood the flavour of the thing. Susan had once taken a (reluctant) bite of it and promptly dashed straight for the bin. She could no longer see Oreos the same way again.

 

“My Mother’s recipes!” She threw her head into her hands, narrowly avoiding face planting in her very own (non-Oreo filled thankyouverymuch) sandwich. “I’ve looked everywhere at home and I—” She choked out a sob. “I can’t find them!”

 

“Oh,” Thomas deflated a little and put down his sandwich in favour of twiddling with his hands. “Umm… are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”

 

Susan picked herself off of Thomas’ family kitchen table as she rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

 

“Yes,” She sniffled. “I’m sure.”

 

“Urm… why don’t you just, you know, stop looking for it?”

 

Susan stared at him. Really stared. “Thomas,” She said slowly, a hysteric edge accompanying her tone. “This is my _Mother’s_ cookbook we are talking about. I’m not going to just say ‘oh well, that’s that I guess’ and stop hunting for it.”

 

“No! No!” He bounced up from his seat, hand instinctively reaching out to her own. “That’s not what I meant at all, Suse. I was talking about what you told me she used to say to you when you were younger. About lost things.”

 

“That they’ll always turn up? Yes, well I—”

 

“The other thing. How stuff will come back to you when you least expect it. So just stop looking for it.” He returned back to his sandwich. “You’re bound to find it eventually.”

 

Susan took her hand from her necklace, only just realising that she had been stroking the jewel as she usually did when she was anxious.

 

“She did say that, didn’t she?” Her lip twitched upwards. “Thanks Thomas… but that still doesn’t solve the problem of what I’m going to give my uncle Lester for his birthday next week. I wanted to bake him something from the book, but…”

 

“Why don’t you write your own book, then?”

 

Susan found herself frowning at him, not for the first time that day. “My… own… book?”

 

“Yeah!” He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Your baking is the best. You’ve been doing it for so long… you’re a natural. Making your own recipe book will be a breeze.”

 

“No offence, but you would eat just about anything,” She retorted, eyeing his lunch. “And I don’t know so much about it being a ‘breeze’. Writing down the correct amounts and temperatures is quite challenging.”

 

“But if anyone can do it, it’s you Suse. Go for it.”

 

Her heart caught itself in her throat. What did she do to deserve a guy like this? “Thanks Thomas. I- It’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’d lost it.

 

Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t her this time doing the losing. And it wasn’t really lost per say. According to her daughter, she knew exactly where the book was. At school. In her drawer. And it was stuck there for the entire weekend, much to her displeasure.

 

“But I want you to read to me about princess Raven Way.” The six-year-old pouted, once again using her ‘puppy dog eyes’ technique. It was effective.

 

“Oh Katie,” She soothed, ruffling her fingers through Katie’s hair. “You know I love reading to you at night. But the book is at school. We can’t break in just to get it back.”

 

It amazed her to no end that her daughter managed to pout even more. “Mummyyy pleaseee. We read the others.”

 

“Haven’t we already read that book too, though?” She chuckled as Katie grumbled under her breath. “Don’t worry little princess. I’ll see what I can find, okay? Brush your teeth and settle into bed. I’ll be back up soon.”

 

She placed a sloppy kiss on Katie’s cheek, causing the little girl to dissolve into a fit of giggles and cry out ‘ _eww!_ ’ as she prodded at the scene of the kiss. Susan only smiled at her second youngest before she headed downstairs to see if she could locate something of her daughter’s interest.

 

It proved… _difficult_.

 

She found crosswords, multiple ‘touch and feel’ books that had once belonged to her eldest son, Lester (named after her favourite uncle) and she’d kept for the multiple children she had had since (and in Cameron’s case, adopted. He wouldn’t let you forget that and always used it as an excuse to get out of his chores as if that even made sense.) She had even come across her Mother’s old cookbook in which she had lost a very long time ago. Fortunately, it had turned up a month after her uncle’s birthday. She had promptly stuck in her own additions to the book (including the chocolate brownies she had made for Lester — uncle Lester that was) and placed it by her bed where she promised never to lose it again. Of course, she lived in another house now. But it still remained at her bedside.

 

Eventually, after furiously routing around the household, she came across a book from Cameron’s collection (it was rather small. With his dyslexia, he tried to avoid reading on the most part.)

 

“Do you mind if I borrow this?” She held it up from his shelf.

 

Cameron furrowed his brow as he looked up from his homework. But the boy, bless his soul, didn’t even question it. “Uhh sure Mum? Go nuts.”

 

With that, she returned back to Katie who was, as promised, sitting in her bed. Well, if you could call it that. It was more like a mound of pink furry blankets, cushions and sparkly stuffed animals. And as if it wasn’t pink enough? She was surrounded on all sides by fairy lights that her dad, Thomas, had caved into buying for her. With this love of pink and frills, Susan couldn’t help but think that Katie reminded her of her own Mother. They’d have gotten on well.

 

“I’m back.” She smiled as she sat at the end of Katie’s bed. She fidgeted a little as she began to sink into the bed as if it was one of her own soufflets. At last, when she finally found herself in a position that didn’t have her in any danger of being swallowed whole by a bed, she turned back towards the six-year-old. As per usual, her girl was wearing a pair of glittery pyjamas. It was the rainbow pair and even had a print of wings emblazoned on the back (she was going through that fairy faze.) Katie’s favourite pair.

 

“Ooooh! What’s that, Mummy?” She pointed at the book clutched in her hands.

 

“This, little princess, is a book on Greek mythology.”

 

Katie wrinkled her nose. “Mithigy?”

 

Susan patted her on the head. “Mythology. It’s… educational.” _The only thing she could find in the house._ “And makes great bedtime stories!” _She’d just have to cut out all of the gore._

 

Katie didn’t look all that convinced. Even so, she didn’t protest and listened as Susan spoke.

 

After an hour of telling myths, she glanced over to see that her daughter had fallen into the realms of sleep and was now snoring — a trait she’d attained from her father of course. Man, her husband could snore.

 

Susan leaned in to kiss the tip of Katie’s nose, though was careful not to waken the little girl. As she pulled away, she froze, the distant echoes of two very, very familiar laughs echoing throughout the landing. Susan had to hold back the urge to groan.

 

Tyler.

 

Tyrone.

 

The youngest members of the family. Twins and definitely their father’s children. Why she had thought it okay to leave the three of them in the same room again? That was just asking for trouble.

 

Susan clambered up from the bed and switched off the fairy lights. Guess she'd have to deal with the aftermath of whatever had just been unleashed.

 

Two weeks later after she found out the three t’s of the family (Thomas, Tyler and Tyrone) had taken all of the mugs from the kitchen and scattered them around the front of the house, Susan was approached by Katie.

 

“Mummy?” She asked, tugging on the hem of her skirt. “Can you make me a costume?”

 

Susan didn't know if she'd heard her daughter right. Did she just say she _needed yet another costume?_

 

“A costume? Sweetie, what for?”

 

“Just wanna.” She blinked slowly at her, making sure she fluttered her eyelashes. Oh, Susan could already see the anime glitter. “Pretty please!”

 

As always, Susan proved to be swayed by Katie’s eye fluttering. “Okay then. Another princess I'm guessing?”

 

“Nah,” She shook her head which made her pigtails jiggle up and down, further emphasising the cuteness that Katie loved to flaunt. “Artemis.”

 

“Artemis? But… why?”

 

“She's cool. So can I?”

 

Susan thought for a moment. “I suppose. I've never been one to sew, though, so I might need to get in touch with one of my friends… but why Artemis?”

 

“The mimtholigy story was good. And thanks Mummy!”

 

As she watched her daughter skip away, Susan felt her heart warm. Maybe losing that book (but not really. She got it back after that weekend) wasn't so bad after all. Maybe…

 

She glanced down at her necklace strung around her neck.

 

Maybe it was time it found a new owner.

 

* * *

 

 

She’d lost _him_.

 

Susan hugged her knees, still in her bedroom with the door locked as she had done as a young girl. She - she couldn’t face her family.

 

Not after this.

 

Not after she lost him.

 

Her poor, poor son.

 

So young. Too young.

 

“Mum?” The voice was small, fragile, shattered.

 

Broken.

 

She wanted to kick herself. Of course she wasn’t suffering with this problem on her own. They had just lost a member of the family, and here she was. Hauled up in her room doing absolutely nothing to help ease the pain everyone else felt. Help stitch up the holes in their hearts.

 

She had abandoned them when she was needed the most.

 

Susan leaned over to the door and unlatched the lock, allowing her second oldest son (but he was the oldest now, _wasn't he_?) to enter the room.

 

His eyes were rimmed red, no doubt from crying too. They'd been close, Cameron and Lester. Two peas in a pod. Very rarely would you see the duo apart.

 

“He’s coming back, right Mum? It’s like you always said. All lost things come back. Tell me it’s true — _please_.”

 

_All lost things come back_.

 

She wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. Maybe do a bit of both. Because deep down that traitorous part of her knew, truly knew that her son was gone.

 

Her baby boy. The one always there to help the family and give comfort wherever he could. The first person who helped her realise that, no, she wasn’t crazy when she thought she saw monsters and strange, unexplainable things — _because he saw them too_.

 

But this time? What she lost would not be coming back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading (seriously, thank you for spending time reading my stuff!) :)) Hopefully, I’ll have more TOA oneshots up soon (and possibly more from this AU.)


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